


Don’t Ask Me To Make You Something, Then Shoot Down My First Three Suggestions

by Catastrophe641



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Absolute Dorks, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Bartender Levi, College Student Eren, M/M, attempted humor, bad language, stupid bets, why did i even write this
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-08
Updated: 2015-05-08
Packaged: 2018-03-29 15:27:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,581
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3901375
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Catastrophe641/pseuds/Catastrophe641
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>I, Levi Ackerman, am a bartender and I can tell you just about anything about everyone who regulars this place. </p><p>I know the guy in the back booth, who shows up three days a week, is having an affair with his next door neighbor’s daughter.  The guy heading for the bathroom is a grade-A asshole, homophobe, who is secretly bisexual. I know his buddy has the hots for him and I know that the girl who’s always with them hates them both, but thinks they’re a good enough fuck to stick around.</p><p>So when some shaggy haired brunette waltzes into the joint, shoeless of all things, and asks for my opinion for a drink…I had no fucking clue what I was expecting from someone who can’t even put on shoes. It certainly wasn’t this.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Don’t Ask Me To Make You Something, Then Shoot Down My First Three Suggestions

**Author's Note:**

> New to writing for this fandom. This marks my first ereri fic. Let me know what you think.
> 
> Based off a prompt found on fuckyeahererifanfic.tumblr.com:
> 
> “I'm a bartender and you just came in here without shoes, sat down, and ordered a chocolate volcano and idk what the fuck that is and I'm scared to ask” au.

I can’t say that this was my first career choice, nor can I say it is the only job I’ve ever had. But I can say that it is the only job in which I have ever been simultaneously entertained, disgusted, and utterly confused by the events that have played out before me. I, Levi Ackerman, am a bartender and it may be far from perfect, but boy do I love it.

I’ve worked this job for four years. I can tell you just about anything about everyone who regulars this place.

Take Erwin, the one armed vet who served three tours in Iraq before he lost his arm. I know he’s single and he comes in on Mondays and Fridays like clockwork, only to get so far drunk off his ass that he ends up attempting to play the piano in the corner once or twice and concludes the night by hitting on the bouncer at the door. I also know he just so happens to be the guy who lives in the apartment across from mine.

Or take Mike, the bouncer at the door, who gets hit on twice a week by Erwin. Mike never talks, just gives you this creepy ass smile when you walk by, because he has a snozz the size Jupiter and can smell anything on you. I know that the reason he _can_ smell people so well is due to some weird genetic defect that makes those little receptors in his brain responsible for his sense of smell going haywire. I know he secretly likes it when Erwin hits on him and he just wishes the big lug would do it while sober.

You can ask me about the brunette who comes in on Sundays claiming she is doing statistical work to see how many people show up to a bar on a Sunday night. Claims that in areas with high Catholic populations the numbers are high because everyone went to confession that day and can start racking up for next week. I can tell you that this statistical work has been going on for three of the four years I’ve worked here and is actually a terrible excuse to talk to me. She’s a freak in my opinion, but the patrons here seem to think she’s a fucking hoot.

I know the guy in the back booth, who shows up three days a week is having an affair with his next door neighbor’s daughter. The guy heading for the bathroom is a grade-A asshole, homophobe, who is secretly bisexual. I know his buddy has the hots for him _and_ I know that the girl who’s always with them hates them both, but thinks they’re a good enough fuck to stick around.

I know how to make every cocktail under the sun. I can mix anything you throw at me. Even got featured in one of those fucking magazines that cover the night life and shit. Gave me my fifteen minutes of fame. Point is I know my stuff.

So when some shaggy haired brunette waltzes into the joint, _shoeless_ of all things, I don’t even want to know how he got past Mike, and asks for my, I shit you not, _my_ opinion for a drink, I had no fucking clue what I was expecting from someone who can’t even put on shoes.

Now I don’t want to brag, but I consider myself to be a pretty damn good bartender. Never once have I had to ask someone what is in a drink they’ve asked for and I’ll be damned if I ever do. But it is rare that anyone, who is not an honest to God rookie in the world of drinking, asks for the opinion of a bartender to decide what to order.

It’s not something I am experienced in, not that people are my strong point to begin with. So I’m not sure how things played out like they did, especially with how I reacted to him.

______________________

“What’s good?” Shaggy says, planting his ass on the barstool. Levi noticed the bare feet the moment he heard the sound of skin slapping against the polished wood floor. He actually paused in the middle of cleaning the glass in his hand. But upon hearing the order come from the kid’s lips, he sets the glass down, still streaked from the wash, and openly stares.

It takes him a moment to completely take in the rest of the youngster before him. Besides the bare feet and the shaggy, brown hair there’s a pair of khaki Bermuda shorts and a grey t-shirt on the kid. He looks like a child in need of a haircut. But when the boy looks up, brown locks no longer shading his eyes, Levi is met with the most breath taking sight he’s seen in years.

Dark aquamarine stares back at him.

“Did you hear me?”

It took Levi a moment to respond and when he did, it wasn’t exactly the nicest response.

“Put some fucking shoes on, you _filthy_ lightweight.”

Shaggy stared for a minute before glancing down at his feet. “Look, just suggest me a drink or make me something, _asshole_ , because I’ve had a rough night and that’s part of the reason my shoes are gone.”

Kid had some balls; Levi had to give him that. But if he had half a brain and any ability in judging who not to piss off, he would have responded differently or left. Levi went back to cleaning the glass, wrist twisting quickly as he spun the glass around in the cloth to get rid of the streaks left by the water. “How ‘bout I make you a Grey Goose cranberry, because let me tell you, you sound like a pretentious douche bag, kid.”

Shaggy sputtered for a moment before responding. “I can’t afford Grey Goose for one, and two, you have no right to judge me just because I’m a little pissed off about my day.”

Levi couldn’t help but smirk at that. “Well let me try again then.” He set the glass in its place on the shelf under the counter top and used the rag to wipe down the top as he thought. He glanced the kid over, took in his posture, considered how angry he seemed to be before making his second suggestion. “Mojito?”

Those eyes glared at him for a moment, the anger in them growing more intense. “I know what those will do to a person. Do you want to watch me suffer?”

“With the attitude you’re giving me tonight, _hell_ _yeah,_ brat.” Levi watched as the kid’s fists curled together.

“Just make me a _fucking drink_.”

Levi grabbed a bottle from the shelf. “Rail Tequila it is then.”

Just as he was about to start pouring. “No! What the fuck is wrong with you?”

“You got a problem with this one too? You’re the one who asked me to pick something.”

“Look I’m not stupid; I worked as a bartender for a while. I know what Rail Tequila does to the male body and I might be as straight as a fucking u-turn, but I have no desire to black out and get butt fucked by some random dude tonight.”

Well...that…didn’t actually change anything. “What the fuck do you want then? Of all the people to come in asking for suggestions, it shouldn’t be you.” Levi turned to put the bottle back in its place, grumbling a quick “asshole” under his breath.

He could hear the kid tap his fingers on the counter top a few times in quick repetition. “Okay then. Make me a chocolate volcano.”

Of all the things to order…it just had to be something Levi had never heard of and was honestly a little scared to ask about. It sounded messy and the last thing Levi wanted was a mess to clean up this late in the day. His gaze met those of the young man seated across from him, each of their gazes challenging the other. Levi could see mirth in the other’s eyes, as if he knew that ordering that particular drink would stump the professional bartender.

“You know,” Shaggy gave a faint smirk, “I read about this place in a magazine once. Said it had the best bartender this side of the States. A real pro who could whip up anything you ordered from him.”

Oh, the brat wanted to play games then. Little, punk, ass bitch was gonna get his ass handed to him if he kept it up. Levi wasn’t going to put up with his shit. And the brat was treading a very thin line right now, didn’t matter how nice he was to look at. If he pushed a little more, maybe he’d get to meet Mike up close and personal; get to feel how awkward it was to have a big ass man sniff at his shirt collar before he threw him out the front door.

Yeah. That’d teach him to play games with Levi. No one played games with Levi. Well, almost no one. But that wasn’t important.

Levi gave a huff as he stared into the kid’s eyes. “Sounds messy, gonna have to pass on that one.”

Something flashed behind those brilliant hues; amusement, anger, maybe even something else, something that Levi hated to admit it might have been. “Refusing an order just because it’s messy sounding? What kind of bartender are you?”

“The kind who doesn’t put up with shitty brats who want to play games and come waltzing shoeless into a bar at night.”

“And you called me the asshole.”

“Alright, listen close brat. Either you order an actual fucking drink or I will have no choice but to go get Mike. Trust me, you don’t want that.”

“I did order a drink, fuck face, but you obviously don’t know how to make it or it wouldn’t have been an issue.”

“What the fuck is a chocolate volcano? It sounds like a kid’s drink that is made to explode in someone’s face.”

“It’s a cocktail you idiot! Where did you even learn to become a bartender?”

“I should ask you the same damn thing!”

“Well I…” That shut him up real good. The kid sighed. “Look I didn’t get taught how to make this from my mentor. I kind of…got it off the food network. Thought maybe someone knew what it was and would make it.”

And so the truth was out. “Come again?” Levi was beyond pissed.

“The food network. I got it from the food network and my friend and I made this bet. We’d pick a random, obscure drink from the show and go from bar to bar until we found a place that made it. First one to actually get their drink made and have proof of it gets to humiliate the other however they want.”

Levi brought a hand to his face, rubbing at his temples as he turned his gaze to the counter top. “Fucking college kids.”

“Who said I was a college kid?”

“Oh, please. You don’t look a day over twenty-two at the most. Probably had to ID your ass at every bar you’ve been to.”

He opened his mouth to retort. “And don’t you dare lie to my face you little prick. You’ll regret it if you do.”

He quickly snapped his mouth back shut. “Now what’s your damn name?”

“Eren.”

“Levi.” He sized the kid up one last time. “Now get your ass back here and show me how to make this stupid, fucking drink or so help me God I will kick you out myself.”

“Wait…what?”

“Do you want your drink or not?”

Eren nodded vigorously. “Thought so. Get on with it.” He jumped up and headed for the counter gate to get to Levi. “And for the love of all things holy, please put something on your fucking feet. I don’t care if you wrap ‘em in napkins; just put something on ‘em before you set foot back here.”

“Yes sir!” Eren rushed toward the bathroom, _gross_ , as Levi mumbled about _nasty ass kids_ and their inability to _even consider hygiene for two fucking seconds_.

It was technically against house rules for him to allow a patron behind the bar, but the owner wasn’t in and the only other people here where far too drunk to remember or even realize what was going on. Levi took up a new rag and began to wipe at the bar again.

A short time later Eren reemerged from the bathroom, feet covered by a strange wrapping of paper towels from the dispenser. There was a nice shade of pink across his cheeks as he proceeded to head behind the bar, stopping a few feet from where Levi stood staring at him. The dirty rag was tossed into a bin under the counter and he perched himself against the bar.

“Well, get to it.” He gestured to the assortment of things behind the bar.

The brat looked around nervously. “Right…Um…Do you have any ice cream?”

It took everything Levi had not to face palm right then and there. Ice cream? In a fucking bar? “No, you dipshit, I do not have ice cream behind my bar.” Could this guy have been any more infuriating? “As a matter of fact, get your sorry-ass self out from behind my bar. Move, get!” He must have sounded like some old lady shooing away a cat.

But at least the kid scuttled out and sat back down in his bar stool from earlier. “What happened to letting me make the drink?”

“That idea flew out the door the moment the words _ice_ and _cream_ came out of your shitty mouth. Go bug someone else.” Levi went back to cleaning things up. He was very much aware that the Eren was still seated across from him, a very evident pout upon his lips.

“What if I don’t want to go?” It came out softly; almost too soft to be classified as a whisper, but Levi heard it. He paused for the second time that night, rag stationary on the counter.

Fuck this kid. Fuck him _so_ hard. Literally. Could he please?

“What do you mean by that?” Was Levi’s equally as quiet reply.

Eren fidgeted for a moment, biting at his lip as he contemplated just leaving without another word. But if he had a shot with the short bartender this was as good a chance as any to give it a go. “You’re very attractive.” He didn’t look up. “And I have enjoyed talking to you. I could care less about the bet at this point.”

Oh. Well…now that did change things. Fuck. What did Levi say to that? He was pretty sure his brain to mouth filter malfunctioned in that moment because while he was aware of having a thought, he was not aware that it had been vocalized. “You can make the drink at my place.”

“You mean it?!” The kid looked ecstatic. Just great, Levi, why’d you have to go and do that?

He figured what the hell though. Might as well give it a go. “Yeah, why the hell not.” All in, balls out, right? “We can grab what I don’t have on the way. I clock out in fifteen. That good with you?”

He’d never seen a smile so big. Dear Lord, what had he gotten himself into?


End file.
